“Yes, I know she was the wife of the late squire; but whose daughter was she?” persisted Will Walling. The housekeeper was silent. “Faix, Misther Walling, is it in the coorthoose ye are, with Misthress Basset intil the witness box, that ye would be cross-examining herself?” demanded Mike. Will Walling turned a deprecating, apologetic glance upon Ran, who quietly replied: “She was the daughter of a gypsy chief. Her name was Gentyl Tuinquer.” “Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Will. Then, feeling rather uncomfortable, he added, to cover his confusion. “How beautiful she must have been!” “And how much more beautiful she must be now!” exclaimed Judy. The lawyer stared at her. “Up there in heaven, I mean; for, of course, she is in heaven, for you may see by her face how good she is,” added Judy. The housekeeper sighed. All the ladies of the long line of Hays had been “angel born” before this gypsy girl from the tents came into the family. And though the woman could not help loving the memory of the lovely young creature, she equally could not help suffering in her own pride at any mention of the gypsy birth. Ran kissed the hand of the pictured lady and then turned with his party to leave the gallery. On stepping out into the hall a footman met him, and with a respectful salute said: “If you please, sir, there is—a—person waiting to see you.” “A person? Who? What sort of a person?” demanded Ran. “A foreign-looking tall man, sir; might be a Patagonian, only he can speak English.” “Show him in here.” And with these words Ran crossed the hall and entered a morning parlor on the same floor. Then looking back he saw that, though his footman had gone on his errand, his friends lingered in the hall. “Come in, all of you. It is only Longman. You will all want to see him, especially will Mr. Quin.” “I do want to see him. Yes, that is so,” assented Dandy, as they all followed Ran into the parlor, where they found quite a variety of comfortable chairs. They were scarcely seated when Longman entered. Ran sprang up and met him; but Dandy pushed between them, his round, bald head, as well as his face, glowing red with excitement as he demanded: “Have you seen my Juley? Is she well and happy? Is she still in the service of the minister?” “She is well and happy, but no longer in service anywhere. She is married to John Legg, the greengrocer of your native village, Medge. So I have not had the pleasure of making her acquaintance,” Longman replied, with a laugh. “The Lord above us! Well, I did sort of hope she was an old-maid woman as would have been a housekeeper and a daughter to myself in my old days. Well, and now she is married, and, I do dare say, with a baker’s dozen of children. Yes, that is so,” said Dandy, with a heavy sigh. “No, but it isn’t so. She only married a few months ago, when she was over forty years old, and John Legg, the widower, who took her for his second wife, over fifty; so she has no baker’s dozen of children as yet.”